These Scars that Bare my Name
by Kristina Nilsson
Summary: His story


Prologue/Chapter 1

I know that many people know the story. It's the age-old tale of a beauty and a beast; kept apart by society; only to fall in love and understand each other when it was too late. This is not the story you're familiar with. Maybe you're more familiar with the story of the beast that found his beauty and drove her away. He gave her all of him, expecting what seemed like so little in return, and gaining nothing.

We fall in love, but this can happen more than once. A person can fall in love so many times throughout their lifetime, with nothing to show for it except as much heartbreak. We are led to believe that falling in love and finding _the one _is a common factor in life. I beg to differ.

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It was early spring in 1861 when a good friend of mine came to me with a wonderful idea. He was in competition to design a new opera house in Paris. I chuckled at the thought of competing for such a commission, but he seemed very passionate about it. He asked me for my help, and though I was not as experienced as him, I thought I would amuse him a bit with my grand ideas. However, it seemed that I was tapping into a hidden talent I didn't realize I had.

My design was quite a spectacle if I do say so myself. It was this grand design that won my friend and me the chance to see our conceptual masterpiece become reality.

The construction started in 1862, and we should have known from problems at the beginning, that things could only become worse. When we started construction, the concrete couldn't be poured because of an underground lake found while digging. We drained what we could within an 8 month time period. Though the records show that all was drained, I must admit this is a lie. You can completely drain an underground lake within a period of 8 months. The few inches of water that still cover the floor may have been passable, had it not been for that insolent worker who broke a pipe while digging. Water started to fill the opera house once again and it seemed for a brief moment that construction on this great monument to art would be stopped. Luckily, the leak was stopped. There was so much more to do, and this was quite a setback. I decided to work around what was left. Half of the land connected to the underground lake would hold the cellars for the opera house. The other half of land across the lake could be left as an afterthought. Compost for all I cared.

I do believe now that this was honestly a sign. The opera house had been cursed from the very first moment ground was broken. Every triumph received one more setback, and the biggest had yet to come.

Many men were fired or died during the construction. The opera house was a very dangerous project; we needed the strongest, most able men. Most of the men we let go were younger men who didn't quiet know what they were doing, or were too weak to do any good. We had to fire a worker that we were having many problems with. He was a very aggressive man, always coming to work drunk or hung-over. I knew that his personal life was the reason for this. Over the winter of the year before, his children died of pneumonia and his wife left him. I felt sorry for the man, but when his poor workmanship started to effect the construction, I needed to get rid of him. I will forever regret meeting this man.

I was with Garnier, overlooking new blueprints drawn up for the ballet dormitories, one of the many wings that would need to be changed, when there was another problem. I heard yelling coming from the building housing the dormitories, and then screams. Garnier looked at me, his eyes wide; I could tell that he was a bit confused and frightened of the commotion. I told him I would go see what the problem was, and he agreed.

I ran to the dorms, my heart pounding through my chest. I don't want to believe that I was afraid at the time, but now that I look back, maybe I was. As I was approaching the area, I saw a strange light glowing from the walls. Flames began shooting out, and suddenly, all the men who were in the area started to run out, coughing and gasping. Their mouths covered their faces and clothes black with soot.

"Monsieur Lafayette, please spare yourself," a man grabbed me, speaking through his coughs. Gasping at the chance for air as he spoke to me, "He's gone, Monsieur. His life is not worth it!"

My curiosity and concern was now peaked, "What happened?" I cried as my voice started to shake now. And though I tried to keep my composure, it was difficult as I could feel the heat of the fire, and suddenly, I heard laughing from within.

"Monsieur, it is John Pitche. He's gone mad. He doused himself with liquor, and the floor around him." We heard the laughter again, he was still alive. I couldn't let the man die, if he could still be saved.

I shook my head in disbelief, "He's still alive!" I screamed, making my way towards the fire, but as I did, I heard the worker's voice, "No Monsieur, he's dead! He's been dead!"

I made my way towards the fire, the laughter growing louder. Suddenly, there was a flash, and chills ran down my spine. The laughter had stopped, for a moment, there was an eerie silence. Soon, the only thing I could hear was the crackling of the fire that lay before me. I then heard the bells of the fire carriage and the hooves of horses racing towards me. I started to cough, realizing the smoke was overpowering me. I quickly turned, but to my horror, the fire had spread around me. What kind of insanity was this? That the fire should spread around me, leaving me standing helpless in the center. I was terrified, and the only thing I could do was pray.

I felt the heat creep up to me, and I started to sweat profusely. I was trapped, and all I could think about were the things in life I had done, and had never gotten the chance to do. I traveled far, gaining much knowledge and skill from different cultures around the world. I had grown up, watching my friends marry and have families; even my dear Garnier married my sister, giving me my own nieces. All my traveling, all my education, knowledge, skill, and yet, I felt as if I had missed out on one of the most important things I a man's life, having a family of my own. Having a wife to love me, children to take care of, all these things that seemed so basic in life, I never really thought about. I was too young to think about these things. In my mind, I had all the time in the world. And at that moment, I realized, there was so much more I could had done with my life.

When the heat reached my body, it soon became unbearable. I stood there silent, ready to accept my fate. I could feel it creeping up my arm, and just as quickly to my face. I screamed in agony, trying to pat the fire out with my hands, burning my own body in the process.

"Erik!" through all the insanity going on around me, I hear my name, and suddenly I feel a push from my side as I was grabbed and drug through the fire. My eye opened slightly, and through the light of the flames that lay behind me, and the sun that beat down onto my face. I felt numb, almost as if I was not in my own body, as if I was not myself.

When my vision was clear enough, I realized the person hovering over me was Garnier. I tried to speak, but my mouth would not open fully. I suddenly started to feel the pain and agony once again. I kept asking myself what was happening with me. The look on Garnier's face was of horror, and this could only worry me more. I raised my hand to him, touching his arm so he knew I was okay. My hand, I will never forge t my first glimpse. It was a horrifying sight. My flesh looked as if it had melted right off of the bone. The muscle charred, and the smell… the smell was absolutely disgusting. It was a strange aroma of beef frying with a tinge of burning metal. I honestly don't remember much after that.

My sister, Juliana, was at my bedside when I woke. I remember her crying when I started to open my eyes and moved. She leaned towards me as if she wanted to hug me, but stopped herself.

"Juli…Juliana," I said her name, but it only came out as a whisper. She began to cry more. I didn't understand. I had no idea where I was or what had happened. "Juliana, where am I? What happened?"

She looked to the ground. I could tell she was struggling to find the words. "Did… did that man die?"I asked, speaking slowly and quietly, for every time I moved my lips, I felt as if I had thousands of small pins poking me. She nodded her head, still not saying a word. I started to grow even more concerned. "Erik," she said softly, placing her hand on my cheek, "the man you went in for… his body wasn't found."

"He's still alive?" I interrupted her, astonished at the possibility that he may have made it out alive.

She shook her head, "No Erik," there was a short pause, in which her eyes were fixated onto me, "his body was completely burnt. The only thing to remain of him was a few false teeth." She stood, beginning to pace the floor. "You should not be alive. That's all the doctors have said… that you also should had perished with that man." I could see the tears starting to come to her eyes once again. It hurt, it hurt to see her in this much pain over me. My little sister… my princess.


End file.
